 | The seasons, in four pastorals |  |
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THE SEASONS. IN FOUR PASTORALS. BY MR. BREREWOOD.
I.SPRING.
I
When, approach'd by the fair dewy fingers of Spring,Swelling buds open first, and look gay;
When the birds on the boughs by their mates sit and sing,
And are danc'd by the breeze on each spray;
II
When gently descending, the rain in soft showers,With its moisture refreshes the ground;
And the drops, as they hang on the plants and the flowers,
Like rich gems beam a lustre around:
III
When the wood-pigeons sit on the branches and coo;And the cuckoo proclaims with his voice,
That Nature marks this for the season to woo,
And for all that can love to rejoice:
IV
In a cottage at night may I spend all my time,In the fields and the meadows all day,
With a maiden whose charms are as yet in their prime,
Young as April, and blooming as May!
V
When the lark with Thrill notes sings aloft in the morn,May my fairest and I sweetly wake,
View the far distant hills, which the sun-beams adorn,
Then arise, and our cottage forsake.
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VI
When the sun shines so warm, that my charmer and IMay recline on the turf without fear,
Let us there all vain thoughts and ambition defy,
While we breathe the first sweets of the year.
VII
Be this spot on a hill, and a spring from it's sideBubble out, and transparently flow,
Creep gently along in meanders, and glide
Thro' the vale strew'd with daisies below.
VIII
While the bee flies from blossom to blossom, and sips,And the violets their sweetness impart,
Let me hang on her neck, and so taste from her lips
The rich cordial that thrills to the heart.
IX
While the dove sits lamenting the loss of its mate,Which the fowler has caught in his snares,
May we think ourselves bless'd that it is not our fate
To endure such an absence as theirs.
X
May I listen to all her soft, tender, sweet notes,When she sings, and no sounds interfere,
But the warbling of birds, which in stretching their throats
Are at strife to be louder than her.
XI
When the daisies, and cowslips, and primroses blow,And chequer the meads and the lawns,
May we see bounding there the swift light-sooted doe,
And pursue with our eye the young fawns.
XII
When the lapwings, just fledg'd, o'er the turf take their run,And the firstlings are all at their play,
And the harmless young lambs skip about in the fun,
Let us then be as frolick as they.
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XIII
When I talk of my love, should I chance to espyThat she seems to mistrust what I say,
By a tear that is ready to fall from her eye,
With my lips let me wipe it away.
XIV
If we sit, or we walk, may I cast round my eyes,And let no single beauty escape;
But see none to create so much love and surprize,
As her eyes, and her face, and her shape.
XV
Thus each day let us pass, till the buds turn to leaves,And the meadows around us are mown;
When the lass on the sweet-smelling haycock receives
What she afterwards blushes to own.
XVI
When evenings grow cool, and the flow'rs hang their headsWith the dew, then no longer we'll roam,
With my arm round her waist, in a path thro' the meads,
Let us hasten to find our way home.
XVII
When the birds are at roost, with their heads in their wings,Each one by the side of its mate;
When a mist that arises, a drowsiness brings
Upon all but the owl and the bat:
XVIII
When soft rest is requir'd, and the stars lend their light,And all nature lies quiet and still;
When no sound breaks the sacred repose of the night,
But, at distance, the clack of a mill:
XIX
With peace for our pillow, and free from all noise,So that voices in whispers are known;
Let us give and receive all the nameless soft joys
That are mus'd on by lovers alone.
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II.SUMMER.
I
Where the light cannot pierce, in a grove of tall trees,With my fair-one as blooming as May,
Undisturb'd by all sound, but the sighs of the breeze,
Let me pass the hot noon of the day.
II
When the sun, less intense, to the westward inclines,For the meadows the groves we'll forsake,
And see the rays dance as inverted he shines,
On the face of some river or lake:
III
Where my fairest and I, on its verge as we pass,(For 'tis she that must still be my theme)
Our two shadows may view on the watery glass,
While the fish are at play in the stream.
IV
May the herds cease to low, and the lambkins to bleat,When she sings me some amorous strain;
All be silent, and hush'd, unless echo repeat
The kind words and sweet sounds back again.
V
And when we return to our cottage at night,Hand in hand as we sauntering stray,
Let the moon's silver beams thro' the leaves give us light,
Just direct us, and chequer our way.
VI
Let the nightingale warble its notes in our walk,As thus gently and slowly we move;
And let no single thought be express'd in our talk,
But of friendship improv'd into love.
VII
Thus enchanted each day with these rural delights,And secure from ambition's alarms,
Soft love and repose shall divide all our nights,
And each morning shall rise with new charms.
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III.AUTUMN.
I
Tho' the seasons must alter, ah! yet let me find,What all must confess to be rare,
A female still chearful, and faithful and kind,
The blessings of Autumn to share.
II
Let one side of our cottage, a flourishing vine,Overspread with its branches and shade;
Whose clusters appear more transparent and fine,
As its leaves are beginning to fade.
III
When the fruit makes the branches bend down with its load,In our orchard surrounded with pales;
In a bed of clean straw let our apples be stow'd,
For a tart that in winter regales.
IV
When the vapours that rise from the earth in the mornSeem to hang on its surface like smoke,
Till dispers'd by the sun that gilds over the corn,
Within doors let us prattle and joke.
V
But when we see clear all the hues of the leaves,And at work in the fields are all hands,
Some in reaping the wheat, others binding the sheaves,
Let us carelessly stroll o'er the lands.
VI
How pleasing the sight of the toiling they make,To collect what kind Nature has sent!
Heaven grant we may not of their labour partake;
But, oh! give us their happy content.
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VII
And sometimes on a bank, under shade, by a brook,Let us silently sit at our ease,
And there gaze on the stream, till the fish on the hook
Struggles hard to procure its release.
VIII
And now, when the husbandman sings harvest-home,And the corn's all got into the house;
When the long wish'd-for time of their meeting is come,
To frolick, and feast, and carouse:
IX
When the leaves from the trees are begun to be shed,And are leaving the branches all bare,
Either strew'd at the roots, shrivell'd, wither'd, and dead,
Or else blown to and fro in the air:
X
When the ways are so miry, that bogs they might seem,And the axle-tree's ready to break,
While the waggoner whistles in stopping his team,
And then claps the poor jades on the neck:
XI
In the morning let's follow the cry of the hounds,Or the fearful young covey beset;
Which tho' skulking in stubble and weeds on the grounds,
Are becoming a prey to the net.
XII
Let's enjoy all the pleasure retirement affords,Still amus'd with these innocent sports,
Nor once envy the pomp of fine ladies and lords,
With their grand entertainments in courts.
XIII
In the ev'ning, when lovers are leaning on styles,Deep engag'd in some amorous chat,
And 'tis very well known by his grin and her smiles,
What they both have a mind to be at:
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XIV
To our dwelling, tho' homely, well-pleas'd to repair,Let our mutual endearments revive;
And let no single action or look but declare,
How contented and happy we live.
XV
Should ideas arise that may ruffle the soul,Let soft musick the phantoms remove;
For 'tis harmony only has force to controul,
And unite all the passions in love.
XVI
With her eyes but half open, her cap all awry,When the lass is preparing for bed,
And the sleepy dull clown, who sits nodding just by,
Sometimes rouses and scratches his head:
XVII
In the night when 'tis cloudy, and rainy, and dark,And the labourers snore as they lie,
Not a noise to disturb us, unless a dog bark,
In the farm, or the village hard by:
XVIII
At the time of sweet rest, and of quiet like this,Ere our eyes are clos'd up in their lids,
Let us welcome the season, and taste of that bliss
Which the sun-shine and day-light forbids!
IV.WINTER.
I
When the trees are all bare, not a leaf to be seen,And the meadows their beauty have lost;
When Nature's disrob'd of her mantle of green,
And the streams are fast bound with the frost:
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II
While the peasant inactive stands shivering with cold,As bleak the winds northernly blow;
And the innocent flocks run for warmth to the fold,
With their fleeces besprinkled with snow:
III
In the yard, when the cattle are fodder'd with straw,And they send forth their breath in a stream;
And the neat-looking dairy-maid sees she must thaw
Flakes of ice that she finds in the cream:
IV
When the sweet country-maiden, as fresh as a rose,As she carelessly trips often slides,
And the rusticks laugh loud, if by falling she shows
All the charms that her modesty hides:
V
When the lads and the lasses for company join'd,In a crowd round the embers are met,
Talk of fairies and witches that ride on the wind,
And of ghosts, till they're all in a sweat:
VI
Heav'n grant, in this season, it may be my lot,With the nymph whom I love and admire;
While the icicles hang from the eaves of my cot,
I may thither in safety retire!
VII
Where in neatness and quiet—and free from surprize,We may live, and no hardships endure;
Nor feel any turbulent passions arise,
But such as each other may cure!
FINIS.
| The seasons, in four pastorals | |